


Spring's New Bloom

by poetaster



Category: Love Victor (TV 2020), Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetaster/pseuds/poetaster
Summary: picks up at the end of season 1.steel yourself, little flower
Relationships: Victor Salazar/Benji Campbell
Comments: 17
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

It was all he could do to remain on his feet. The rising and falling of his chest was all that anchored him through the surreal wave unleashed by those words. Words that still seemed to reverberate through the silence. He had put those words into the world and there was no taking them back.

He did not want to take them back. He felt a swell of pride at that.

His vision was blurred. The figures before him appeared indistinct and still.

Until one suddenly stood with a sound like a strangled sob. Pilar, he saw, as she hurried towards him and his eyes finally managed to focus. Her face was crumpled, her eyes wet with tears.

He nearly lost his footing when she brushed passed him. She had not been rushing to embrace him, but fleeing to her room. The sharp slam of her door cut through the daze that had fallen over him.

His mom and dad were no longer blurs when he looked back to the couch. His dad’s mouth was buried deep in his hand, his eyes flitting about in disbelief. His mom looked expressionless––she was slumped back into the couch, staring ahead at the empty wall, her mouth hanging open.

All at once, his dad stood so quickly that he knocked a wine glass from the coffee table, shattering on the ground. His dad didn’t even seem to notice. He started pacing around the room, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re not––“ he shouted. Victor had never heard him so angry. “You don’t know what you’re saying! You’ve been spending too much time with… _those_ friends.”

Victor’s heart sank. It scared him how upset his dad looked, the way he paced around the room, fuming and shaking with rage. He looked to his mom, hoping she would say something in his defense. But she still had a blank look on her face, her stare now fixed to the broken glass on the floor. He felt tears starting to burn at his eyes. The thought of crying in front of them now was so unbearable that he started to turn back to his room.

But then the thought of staying another moment in this house with these people was unbearable, too.

“Fuck this,” he spat.

He was speeding out the door before he had a chance to see their reactions.

Once outside the apartment, he ran for the building door, his vision now blurred by harsh reality, not surreal pride.

Something stayed his hand on the handle of the building’s outer door. Waiting, he realized, for the sound of their apartment door opening, the worried call of his name. The apologies his dad would eagerly lay before him. The gentle caress of his mom’s arms as she would whisper reassurances.

“It doesn’t mean a thing to us,” his dad would say.

“We love you all the same,” his mom would agree.

He measured time by the progress of a tear down his face, reflected in the door’s window glass. He was not called by the time it finally fell from his jaw. The only door that opened was the one before him.

He did not know where he was going, but anywhere was better than what laid behind him.

The streets he walked down were empty, lit only in pools of flickering lamplight. Still he tried to suppress his sobs, not wanting to attract attention in this state. Hurt and anger and sorrow were all vying to strike him down. He begged them all for reprieve. He could not bear to contend with them any longer.

There was some small mercy in the cool spring air. It took the flustered heat from his skin, dried the wetness from his eyes. It was easier to breath outside, and his shuddering breaths eventually evened out.

It was not long before he was lost. Or perhaps it was––it could have been a few minutes as easily as a few hours since he left home. Ran away. That’s what he had done. He let out a bitter laugh that came out mixed with a sob.

His phone started vibrating after he stumbled down another street. His mom calling. He saw it was nearly 1:00 AM before declining the call. Better yet, he turned his phone off altogether, resisted the urge to throw it against the sidewalk and instead roughly buried it in his pocket.

It was satisfying to think of how worried she must be. He couldn’t imagine his dad regretting what he said, though. He could not unsee the deep furrows in his dad’s face as he screamed those words. His mom couldn’t even bring herself to defend him at his most vulnerable. Neither had even bothered to come after him when he left. Even Pilar had seemed mad at him.

The question came up despite his protest: Would they even want him to come back?

There was a small park on the other side of the street, as good a place as any to ride this fresh wave of tears.

The park was little more than a patch of grass, a few small trees, a bench, and a dull plastic playground set in a pile of pebbles. In New York, Bram had taken him to Prospect Park, near his apartment. They had spent hours there, walking down forested paths, around a lake and past a concert stage. Through endless grass fields where men laid beside each other hand in hand, without worry.

His hand clutched at the grass he laid in now. He tore out a clump and threw it aside.

He was trapped. In this shitty little park, in this small, close-minded suburb. He wept at the injustice of it. His life felt so small, so insignificant. Like it was pressing back against the person he wanted to be, hard and unyielding.

Why must his life always be so difficult? To struggle for every convenience afforded to others so effortlessly. To be gay and born to parents who would not accept it.

And when he finally summoned the courage to do the most difficult thing he ever had to do, the stage was littered and wrecked, the audience armed with insults and sneers.

At least he still said his line. And he did not regret it, no matter how much his parents might.

He pounded his palms against the hard ground at their hypocrisy. He had accepted their bombshell without outburst, and they could not bring themselves to give him the same respect. They always expected him to hold the family together, but couldn’t hold it together for him.

Even when he tried to tell Mia, the circumstances went out of their way to make it difficult for him. And now he had ruined any chance of being her friend. All because she happened to walk out at the wrong time and see––

Benji.

Even after a night full of dark turns, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him. The firm press of Benji’s hand against the back of his neck, fingertips running through his hair. The breathy, satisfied exhale when their lips parted. The close smell of him––coffee and leather.

He had that, at least. That he would not part with so easily.

Now, alone and in silence for the first time since their kiss, he wondered how long Benji had harbored feelings for him. Had Benji been crushing on him too?

He gave a happy laugh at the thought and wiped at the tears from his eyes.

Regret came over him. Not regret for leaving. Regret for feeling so sorry for himself.

Sure, his life felt hard.

He sniffed.

That’s life.

He never went hungry.

He had a decent education.

He had a roof over his head. (Well, not presently.)

At least he _had_ parents to reject him.

And he had a chance at love.

It was more than many could claim. If that was the score, that was the score.

He excavated the phone from his pocket and turned it back on. He dropped it on his face with the surprise sting of so many vibrations. He noted the time as he picked it back up––nearly 2:00 AM.

Dozens of calls from his mom, and a few from Pilar, too.

The others were more surprising: tons of calls from Felix, and from Lake of all people. He only skimmed the preview of their texts (“anyway it doesn’t matter, just come back or at least tell me where you are and…”; “On top of whatever all that is you make people worry sick for you too? Whateve…”) before he saw who else had called him: Benji. Several times.

Did Benji know he had run away, or was he calling for some other reason? That was answered when he hurriedly open their texts. Benji had sent him loads of concerned messages. The last was from only 10 minutes ago: “Just let me know you’re OK. And let me know where you are.”

How did he know? The guilt of having somehow dragged Benji into this familial drama stabbed at him. And at the same time, he couldn’t deny that all he wanted right now was to see him.

Thumbs fumbling, he dropped a pin.

He thought of texting that he was OK too, but stopped himself when he wondered if that was honest.

Benji’s typing bubble showed up a split second later, and then his text: “Stay right there. I’m coming.”


	2. Chapter 2

The crunch of tires slowing to a stop drew Victor from his thoughts. He flinched a moment later at the sound of a car door closing.

“Victor?” came a voice, somehow both a whisper and shout.

Slowly he stood. Though the night was dark and his head was rushing from the return to verticality, he easily recognized the shadowed figure standing across the patch of grass. And he must have been recognized in return, for the moment he stood Benji rushed towards him and did not stop until their arms were wrapped tight around each other.

“Victor,” Benji said again, this time with a sigh of relief.

He had not meant to cry in front of Benji. He already felt so embarrassed, so guilty for putting so much on him when their relationship was only a few hours old, so young it had not yet been named. But that charade could not hold now. The safeguards he had tried to place fell before the safety and comfort of Benji’s presence.

He felt himself shaking and heaving. He clutched at Benji for support. He buried his wet face in the curve where Benji’s shoulder met his neck.

“It’s OK,” Benji said, tightening his grip around Victor, pulling him even closer. He repeated this mantra for some time.

After a few minutes, Victor managed to regain a small measure of control. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, between sobs.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Benji said, as he raised a hand to Victor’s head and ran it through his hair.

“I–,” Victor started, but his breath hitched and stole his words.

“Shh,” Benji said, running his hand through Victor’s hair again. “Just try to calm down. Deep breaths, OK?”

Victor nodded into Benji’s neck. Benji started taking deep breaths himself. Their chests were pressed so close that Victor found himself mimicking the pattern of long inhales without even intending to. It did help. Before long he could get through a few breaths without succumbing to a choked sob.

Benji seemed satisfied after a few more minutes. “That’s good,” he said, patting Victor’s back. “Let’s sit, OK?”

“OK,” he weakly agreed, following the steady tug of Benji’s hand until they were sitting on the park’s lone bench.

Benji did not release his hand when they sat. He held it firm, his thumb repeating a reassuring stroke along the back of Victor’s hand. Victor admired the sight as the last of his tears dried.

Benji did not ask why he was in a park in the middle of the night. He did not say a thing.

“My parents are separating,” Victor mumbled, after realizing that Benji was waiting for him.

Benji’s sigh was surprise and condolence in equal parts. “I’m so sorry.”

Victor nodded and sniffed. It had seemed an easier place to start, but now that he said it, he realized how little he had actually processed it. One way or another, the most constant fixture in his life had come to an end tonight.

“And I told them,” he went on. “That I’m…gay.”

“Oh,” said Benji knowingly. His hand gripped Victor’s more tightly.

“It was…stupid. It wasn’t a good time. I should have just waited. Maybe then they would have…Maybe I wouldn’t have…And you wouldn’t have to…It’s my fault.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I just…It felt like. Like it was then or never.”

Benji shook his head, strands of hair loosing and falling across his face. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He said it not as a consolation but as a certainty, as though it were a law of nature. “There’s never a good time. I told my parents in the hospital. After I totaled my dad’s car.”

Benji’s smile was contagious. Even now Victor could not keep his lips from curling. He wiped at his eyes with his free hand. “They didn’t…take it well.” It didn’t really need saying, given where they now found themselves. “My dad––“ He swallowed hard. “He looked so angry. He tried to tell me I was wrong. I…I think he blamed you..”

“I’m so sorry,” Benji said, with a disappointed sigh. “You deserved better.”

Victor bit his tongue and nodded. “I never thought it would be perfect, but…My mom couldn’t even...She just looked so…empty. Like she’d been reset or something.” He felt his breath starting to quicken. “Like I wasn’t anything to her anymore,” he managed to finish.

“Oh, Victor.” Benji pulled him into a tight hug. Victor clung to him again, the grip of his fingers squeaking against the slick leather of Benji’s jacket. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Is that why you…” he trailed off.

“Yeah.” Reluctantly he untangled himself from Benji’s arms so that he could wipe at his eyes. “I just…couldn’t stay there. It was stupid. I’m––“

Benji silenced him with a steady hand placed on his trembling knee. “It wasn’t stupid. I’m glad you left if you didn’t feel safe.”

“But I made you––“

“You didn’t make me do anything. You were looking out for yourself.” He laid a hand against the side of Victor’s face, with his thumb wiped at the wetness beneath his eye. “I’m proud of you.”

Victor sniffed. “Thanks for coming,” he said with a weak smile. He felt much better after having put his thoughts into words. In the open world they were not as formidable as they seemed, especially with Benji’s reassuring presence at his side.

“Of course.”

“I really don’t know what I’m going to do,” Victor scoffed. “I don’t know if I can go back. Even Pilar hates me.”

Benji shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“But she––“

“She’s the reason I’m here,” Benji said calmly.

“What?”

“She texted me, said you’d run off and no one could find you. It sounded earlier like she must have read your letter. And I guess after you came out she put the pieces together…Anyways, she was really worried about you, Victor. She thought I’d be able to help find you.”

“But she seemed so upset,” Victor said tiredly.

“Maybe she was just overwhelmed,” Benji offered. “Your parents might have been too. It sounds like everyone had been through a lot tonight.” He put his arm around Victor’s shoulder. “It doesn’t excuse how they handled it,” he added hurriedly. “The truth is that some people just need time before they can accept it.”

Victor sighed in frustration. “I just want to be myself. What right do they have…”

“I know,” Benji agreed. “It’s not fair.” He shifted and pulled Victor closer until they were half-laying on the bench, Victor’s back pressed to Benji’s chest. “Maybe we’ll get there one day. All you can do now is decide whether to give them the time.”

To belittle his pride or risk his family (whatever family was now). This is what history had presented him: the choice of whichever offense he pleased.

“I’m tired,” he muttered. His legs ached from his midnight wanderings. The late hour weighed down his eyelids.

“Me too,” Benji mumbled from behind.

It seemed only minutes before the bird song woke him, but when he opened his eyes, the faintest blue was starting to gather at the sky’s edge. His neck and back were sore, and his arm and fallen asleep. But there was nowhere he would rather be than laying on this too-small bench in this shitty little park.

The trace of fingers against his hand told him that Benji was awake already. “You should have woken me up,” Victor said.

Benji laughed. “I thought you could use the sleep.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed at his face. He did not feel very rested, but it would have to do. “I guess I should go back.”

“Do you feel ready?” Benji whispered.

“I think so.”

“I’ll drive you then.”

They fumbled tiredly and laughed as they tried to disentangle from each other and stand.

Benji spotted something in the grass on their slow walk back to the street and stopped to pick it up, rising with a crumpled black bowtie in hand. It must have fallen off when Victor was laying in the grass. Carefully, Benji flicked a few pieces of grass from it, smoothed it between two fingers, then returned it to Victor’s neck, the tails dangling down to his chest.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Benji smiled, then pressed a soft kiss to Victor’s forehead. Victor felt himself blush, but he didn’t care.

It was only once they were in the car––Benji making a small adjustment to the rearview mirror––that the realization came to him, and immediately he was overcome with guilt. “Your license…” He said. Benji’s license was suspended.

He could live with whatever he had brought on to himself, but the thought of getting Benji in trouble was unbearable.

“Never mind that,” Benji said with a quick smile.

“I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. I made you come get me and now––“

“It’s fine,” Benji cut him off. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“But your dad––“

“Will be none the wiser,” Benji finished, eying the dashboard clock, which read 5:03 AM. “If we hurry.”

Victor still couldn’t forgive himself. It was more than just the risk he had forced Benji to take. The last time he was behind the wheel, he had been in a dark place, and it ended with him in the hospital. It couldn’t be easy for him to suddenly put himself back in the driver’s seat.

But for the sake of sparing Benji a reckoning with his father, Victor nodded and said: “OK.”

Benji leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek before starting the car. “Let’s get you home.”


End file.
